


singing like a bird, 'bout it now

by acemartinblackwood (semnai)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sex Adverse Jon, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24138133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semnai/pseuds/acemartinblackwood
Summary: An uncertain Jon wants to get to know his boyfriend better through touch.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 14
Kudos: 278





	singing like a bird, 'bout it now

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt I got on Tumblr asking for "Fluffy body worship". 
> 
> Title is from Hozier's Shrike:  
>  _I couldn't utter my love when it counted  
>  Ah, but I'm singing like a bird, 'bout it now  
> I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted  
> Ah, but I'm singing like a bird, 'bout it now_

Jon had put down his book over five minutes ago in favor of simply looking at Martin. Martin, on the other hand, was still resolutely reading a thin volume of poetry he had picked out from the second-hand shop they had stopped by earlier that day, but every once in a while he would glance up, catch Jon still looking at him, blush charmingly, and stubbornly return to reading his book. Jon couldn't help it though; Martin had so many freckles, scattered like stars across his face, and as he read a poem to himself, he would mouth the words. After he finished a poem, Martin would bite his lip and lower his eyelashes, and Jon supposed he was working out a meaning or reflecting on the emotions the poem stirred. 

His eyes drifted to Martin's hands cradling the book, hands now almost as familiar as his own; he knew how those hands felt when he held them, how they gently they could caress his face like he was beloved, or how warm they felt as they gripped his waist. From his hands, Jon moved his gaze to Martin's arms, which were as freckled as his face, and sturdy; Martin was somehow able to put his affection and fierce love into his hugs, holding onto him like he'd never let go, anchoring them together, so they'd never lose each other again. Jon watched Martin's throat move as he swallowed, tracing his eyes down Martin's chest to how his legs stretched out across the bed.

He longed to reach out and touch. He had learned so much about Martin over the past few years he'd known him, and the past few days especially, but he yearned to know more. He had never understood physical attraction but he knew adored everything about Martin, from his messy, overgrown curls that the Scottish wind would blow into his face to how he could never stop tapping his feet while they sat at the kitchen table. He was resolutely convinced that this was antithetical to his Beholding nature, as this knowing was rooted in love, adoration for this wonderful man who had become such an important part of his life, of his very existence.

"Martin," Jon murmured, before he could stop himself. 

"Mm?" Martin looked up from the book, the corner of his mouth upturned in a playfully teasing manner. "You've finally decided to tell me why you're staring, then?"

Jon rolled his eyes, but was unable to keep back a small smile. "What, am I not allowed to look at my--my boyfriend?" 

"Sure, and I'm flattered," Martin said, a single eyebrow raised, "but is that all?"

"Uh, no actually. I was wondering. Um." Jon sighed. He sat up so he could pull his legs beneath him so that he was kneeling, and facing Martin. "You're beautiful, Martin. You're… you're perfect."

Martin didn't look skeptical per se, but he eyed Jon with a measure of disbelief and bemusement, before giving a soft laugh. "Thanks?" he said, voice pitched slightly higher than normal. 

"It's true!" Jon insisted, filled abruptly with a desperate desire for Martin to believe and understand. "You're… everything to me."

"I…" he started, as he reached out towards Martin, but his hand stopped, unsure. Inhale, exhale.

"Jon," Martin breathed. "Tell me what you want. Please."

"Can I… touch you? I, oh god, not like, um, that. But like I just want to, um. Hold your face? Oh no." Jon leaned back, and put his head in his hands. "I'm so awful at this, I'm sorry."

"Jon," Martin said, tenderly, so carefully. "It's okay, you're okay. Here." He reached out, gently putting his hand over Jon's before bringing it to his face. Martin's face was warm, his skin soft. Jon marveled how unlike it was to his, unmarked and unlined.

Martin's hand left his, and Jon moved his hand from Martin's cheek, to Martin's lips, tracing his nose, and then up to his hair. Martin scrunched his face, and Jon huffed a laugh. Martin's curls caught on his fingers as he combed his fingers through, springing back to place once they were free. As his fingertips trailed down Martin's neck, Martin shivered and took a slow, deep breath.

He laid his hand on Martin's pulse point, before bringing it down to his clothed chest, watching it rise and fall for several moments. Jon bit his lip, considering, before leaning into Martin's neck, breathing in deeply. Martin. He shifted so that he was leaning completely over Martin, loosely straddling him, taking care not to box him in or make him feel trapped. Martin looked back up at him, smiling, both hands resting on either side of Jon. His own hands moved to Martin's sides, his fingers trailing down his chest, taking note of the bumps of his ribs, how lovely and soft his stomach was. 

"Gorgeous," he murmured, glancing back up at Martin, and was able to appreciate a rouge blush on his cheeks, his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt.

As he brought his hands back up Martin's sides, Martin squirmed and let out a small squeal. Jon quickly looked up with concern before realizing what was going on.

"You're ticklish," Jon said, with delight. 

"Don't. You. Dare. Jon."

"Hmph, if you insist. Good to know though."

Moving himself further down Martin's body, he laid his head on Martin's stomach, letting out a sigh as he loosely wrapped his arms around Martin's chest. 

Martin's hand rested on Jon's head, before he threaded his fingers through hair, fingers scratching at his scalp. Jon couldn't help the shudder that ran through him as he leaned into the touch.

"You're lovely, Martin," he said into Martins' stomach. "Beautiful, gorgeous, perfect."

"If you say so?" Martin said, laughing softly, unsure, but pleased.

If Jon's face hadn't been smushed into Martin's stomach he would have given a withering look at Martin's questioning tone. Instead, Jon bit down gently on Martin's stomach, a warning. "I do," he said, muffled by Martin.

"Ah! Did you just…?" Martin sighed, fond. "Of course you did. I'm… sorry?"

Jon hummed into Martin's stomach, momentarily holding him tighter. 

"Right, okay." Jon could hear the eyeroll in Martin's voice that came with his huff of laughter. "I'm lovely, and, _don't-you-dare-argue-with-me-on-this_ , so are you."

Jon grumbled, but didn't disagree. He was too comfy, here, surrounded by Martin, and that's the way he wanted it to stay, for as long as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! Comments and kudos are love <3\. You can find me on my [Tumblr](https://acemartinblackwood.tumblr.com) freaking out about s5 of TMA.


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